HALF OF THE WHOLE

Lanterns are tied around hope like we twist naivety around the truth, like we twist around arms as if we can strangle more comfort out of complacent,the need to hold onto something regardless if fragility is tied to a breeze we cannot keep at bay. Winds are blowing in the northern skies while the breath is held on these southern sands where freedom is more reachable. This half has not forgotten what it was to be a whole. Plato said we were split in two, cast off towards a constant searchfor the other half of that whole that is now a hole. We curve around carvings time will not release, we twist and turn through roots the soil has long shown the light, we rise and fall to rise again where treetops bow towards a beauty, untampered, where tiny birds breathe life into wings at the will of the wind, fragile creatures who know our fragility. We sit and share food and smile at this simplicity bowing under tended wood on mountain sloops time has taught to be tender. We are reflections, fleeting through finite flickers, we court each spark hoping for a chance to be brighter than before, hoping to be carved into something as lasting as these rocks. We still dig despite the doubt, lighting lanterns tethered to a half hope, half held, ignoring how light the light that remains. We smile when asked our opinion, a unity of north and south, there is no answer, this is only a circus of showmen blowing out their balls and so we bow out and tie our own hopes to the bark of a branch of a tree that has seen the whole and stood strong over the time that dug out the hole. We are circles struck in two, massaging our fractured diameter in case it will one day be the position of a joint. And another lantern is lit.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Lanterns from the Bulkuk Temple, Gyeongju, South Korea

300 year old tree with paper wishes from the Hahoe Folk Village, Angdong, South Korea